All This and Heaven Too
by The Purple Pineapple
Summary: Presidential limo post 2x08 one-shot. She loves him too, and that, that changes everything...


**A/N: Still on hiatus. I posted this on Tumblr a while back, and realized I never posted it here. Happy reading :)**

She gasps as his tongue trails her heated flesh.

_"I love you, too. I'm in love with you, too."_

The wet trail in the hollow of her collarbone. And his teeth scrape the tender skin, and then he's sucking, breathing the skin in, until there's no air, no air left to breathe. And he soothes it with the flat of his tongue. It will bruise. And it will fade. The flesh, the flesh is forgiving.

_"What do you love about me?" She asks as she peels her forehead off the cool glass, and turns to look at him. He shifts in his seat, as a wistful smile stretches on his lips._

_"I love your confidence."_

Her hands fumble with his belt buckle. Her slender fingers unhook the button. And she is teasing, her palm rubbing him over the remaining layer of soft fabric. And his tongue is pressing deeper, deeper into the bone; trying to disappear in the body that is his home. "Livvie…" A prayer that never vanes.

She wraps her fingers around his pulsing member. And his teeth graze the underside of her exposed breast. Lightly. The sensation painfully evanescent; too soon the feeling becomes a memory; too soon she forgets. She lets her thumb circle his tip and his guttal groan resonates through her burning skin. It makes her muscles clench and her breath hitch. And his fingers dig into her flesh as her hand moves frantically up and down, along his length.

_"I love how unaware you are of the effect you have."_

He thrusts his hips forcefully and she strokes faster. She adds her other hand and he buries his head in the crook of her neck. His hands are roaming her body, feverishly, trying to hold on to the only thing that feels real, that still exists. Her scent; her perfume mixed with his cologne; and the taste of sweat, the sweet taste of sex; the heated skin and the limbs that tremble under his touch. The lips that moan his name, and the eyes that fall shut as he bites her shoulder. He feels it building, his movements suddenly jerky, and he tries to move away; but she hooks her legs around his waist, and he's spilling his seeds on her exposed stomach; her plump breasts. And she keeps going, until he's collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily, spent.

_"I love how in control you are. And I love that I can make you lose it." She blushes as her body tingles at the memories._

_The energy shifts. The passing city lights still dance on his face, but his blue eyes are suddenly dark as he swallows hard. And she feels the familiar warmth pooling between her thighs. And he's scooting over to her and she's grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket. And it's lips crashing, sloppy kisses, hungry. Tongues that roam the familiar crevices; that say – their love, her proclamation, it changes nothing, they, they're still the same; just more in love more desperate. Tongues that lie – everything's changed. And their fingers are making way through rows of small buttons, and they slip, they scratch the burning skin. She's pushing his shirt off, and he's pulling hers off her shoulders, unhooking her bra with steady hands._

_He pushes her on her back and kneels, towering above her. He runs his hands up and down her thighs, and they both know, both remember. And they smile. She tilts her head, and mouths I love you as she lets her hand trail his abs. He trails kisses down her abdomen, sloppy and wet; the kind that lights her skin on fire, while making her shiver._

_And then she's exposed. Completely bare before him. And the way he looks at her; carnality mixed with utter tenderness makes her reach out for his hand and trail it to her center. And then it's hot breaths, and sensations that make her hips buckle and her thighs tremble. It's hitting a spot that makes her call out his name, that makes her dig her nails into his back, until red lines are marking him as hers. And for a moment she feels guilty, because he's married and he has a wife, but then he hits her spot again and it sends electricity surging from low in her stomach, to the very tips of her toes. And the guilt dissipates, disappears in the pleasure. And he doesn't stop, no, and it's too much and too little at the same time; she's fisting her hair and arching her back; trying to get away, and trying to get closer still. And she is shaking as the familiar warmth spreads through her body; and he keeps going until her hand lifelessly slides form his curly hair, down the side of his face._

_"I love when you unravel. And I love how you taste. And I love that lazy smile that spreads across your face. I love knowing I'm the reason it's there."_

_She lowers her legs and pulls him up with weak hands. She kisses him tenderly, tasting her essence on his lips. He rests his head on her shoulder then trails a line down to her collarbone with his tongue. She gasps._

"You make me feel safe." She says with a shy smile. "I've never felt safer than right now, wrapped in your arms. And I love that." He just smiles against her sweaty skin.

And the car slows down, and the driver's voice echoes through the speaker, "Miss Pope, we're here." And for a moment neither of them moves, they're too content, this is too perfect. He stirs first; it's no longer her. And he sits up, and pulls her up; cleans her up, and puts her clothes back on. He takes his time, lets his hands linger. She buttons up his shirt, and trails his fingertips along his throat, and she feels him swallow as she drags them over his Adam's apple. She kisses him, one last time, with her swollen lips, then wipes the lipstick off of his.

"I hate this." It's the first time and the last time she says it.

"I love you." And it's not enough, it's nowhere near enough. It hurts more than it heals. And his lips ghost over hers for a moment, but then she turns away, and slips out of the car with a fading smile.

As they drive away he rests his forehead on the same spot where hers was a mere hour ago. She loves him too. She's in love with him too. And he thinks of the fleeting guilt in her eyes, every time she wants more of him, all of him; there's guilt. And he thinks of the hurt, the sadness as she walked away. She wants a life, and all they have is borrowed time.

He loves her, too. He is in love with her, too. She deserves better.

He pulls his pin out of his jacket and hands it to Hal as he gets out of the car. "You found it in the archives."

He doesn't sleep that night, or the next one.

He finds the letter and smiles wistfully. She's gone. She's free. And maybe one day, she'll be happy.

Maybe one day, he'll get to make her happy.


End file.
